Jesmyn Ward

A Novel

Sing, Unburied, Sing

"A searing and profound Southern odyssey through Mississippi's past and present"--

 o h my g od. jesmyn ward’s writing will leave u gasping & sobbing & marveling at common humanity & ultimately wishing u could string words together the way she does. incredible 

Ellie Younger

Heather Margaret

A simple review: my heart aches after reading this. It's beautiful. Heartbreaking. Haunting. I would recommend this story to everyone.

Zahra

Just read it. In fact, just read everything Ward has ever written.

Daniel Bower

Jason Marder

** spoiler alert **
           Absolutely gorgeous prose and character articulation, but, in my opinion, a sparse narrative with too much of the “magic” reserved for the end.

Lisa Lindquist 

Wynter

The book that's full of contradictions for me. I loved the language and the characters' voices, but had a hard time caring for the story they told. I felt sadness reading about the dysfunctionality of this family, but it did not resonate within the depths of my heart. I enjoyed the presence of light magical realism, but failed to be carried away on its wings. Just okay in my book, unfortunately.

Colleen

3 Stars
 
I have mixed feelings about Sing, Unburied, Sing. Parts of the writing were lyrical, parts of the story were poignant, and some the ideas of the story were intriguing. But those elements never blended together in a satisfactory way for me. 

The book opens with the graphic description of slaughtering a goat to eat. So you know you are not in for a cheery story. And it deals with a lot of tough issues including child neglect, abuse, racism, drug use, and poverty. It’s a bleak story with a crushing, claustrophobic air offset by expressive, evocative writing. 
 
This is the story of poor Southern family and is told from multiple POV all in first person. It was hard at first to tell exactly when this was set. The present day sections were vague about the time, and the flashbacks & stories of the past also made it hard to pin down a time period. The story open on Jojo’s thirteenth birthday and quickly paints the picture of a dysfunctional family struggling to survive. Jojo and his little sister Kayla are biracial. Rejected by the white side of the family, their father is in prison and their mother is a drug addict leaving her kids to be mostly raised by her ailing parents. 
 
One of the things the story does well is balance colloquialism without overdoing it or sounding demeaning. So often when authors try to write regional dialogue, it sounds mocking, derogatory, or like an over-the-top caricature. On the other hand, most of this comes from Jojo who is supposedly just turned thirteen but definitely did not sound his age. He sounded late teens at least and too eloquent. So while his narration was articulate and stirring, it also sounded nothing like any thirteen-year-old I’ve ever heard of. 

The story telling was a strange juxtaposition of lyrical style and crudeness. There was some mesmerizing writing, but at some point I realized that those poetic descriptions were just bouncing off my brain. I wanted them to have a solid foundation under them. Despite all the flowery descriptions, by the end I had trouble remembering what each character was supposed to look like. The only thing I vividly remember from this book were the detailed descriptions of vomit. Sadly, I felt disconnected from the story. Switching between first person narrators certainly did not help that feeling.

There is also a Magical Realism element to this story. Jojo’s grandmother is a sort of hoodoo healer, and their family has some special abilities. Some of them can even see ghosts. This aspect of the story was by far the most disappointing. I longed for more background on the folklore around this paranormal side of the story and the family’s unique abilities. But there was almost nothing. The paranormal aspect slowly drips into the story. For example, characters are mentioned which you don’t know at first are dead. It was confusing not intriguing. The only person who could explain any of it is dying and unable to explain anything. As the story went on, it became clear that the entire Magical Realism aspects was merely symbolic of people being haunted by their past. The way it was incorporated was unsatisfying. 

I think the present-day part of the story only covered a couple of days, which made it hard for any real character development despite major events happening. And all of that was muddled by the story jumping around and telling parts of the past as well as the present. The ending felt extremely rushed. As the title was finally explained at the very end, some things made a little more sense. But this book never met my expectations. While parts of it were poignant, it was mostly disappointing. 


RATING FACTORS:
Ease of Reading: 3 Stars
Writing Style: 3 Stars
Characters and Character Development: 3 Stars
Plot Structure and Development: 2 Stars
Level of Captivation: 2 Stars
Originality: 3 Stars

Alexandra Sklar

Beautiful. Her writing is lyrical. The story is poignant and the main character Jojo is captivating. I don't know if I have ever experienced such a strong emotional reaction to a book. Stayed up very late to finish.

Tracie McMurray

This book has sentences that are simply beautiful and a pleasure to read. Such imagery!! I wanted to love it, but it was like changing the channel between movies on TV. I didn't get a full story out of anyone. It was such a mixture. I found parts of it haunting and beautiful, sad, lovely, but not easily discussed with others. Very strange. I will say, the audio book is very well done!

Celeste Richardson

You can find this review and more at Novel Notions. 

Literary fiction is very hit or miss for me. I’ve read quite a few that I desperately wanted to like, but I just couldn’t. There’s this level of pretension found in the writing of many such titles that I find difficult to stomach. However, I have been fortunate to find some absolutely gorgeous books in the genre, a handful of which are now among my very favorite books on the planet.

“Sometimes the world don’t give you what you need, no matter how hard you look. Sometimes it withholds.”

So where did Sing, Unburied, Sing fall in this mixed bag of a genre? While it doesn’t rank among my favorite books ever, I did very much enjoy it. There’s something about reading a novel that shares your life in some way, whether that entails a shared heritage or setting or lifestyle, that just speaks so deeply to readers. For me, that comes in the form of novels set in the American South. Ward writes stories firmly rooted in the South, and though this was the first of her novels I’ve read, it won’t be the last, because she does a phenomenal job of capturing both the beauty and the repugnance of the rural South. 

“Can't nothing bother me when I got my hands in the dirt, he said. Like I'm talking to God with my fingers.”

I love where I live. It’s idyllic. As I type, I can look out my window and see sunlight dappling green grass through the boughs of evergreens and reawakening oaks. Goats dance and chickens scratch and my niece is chasing our big black dog. Azaleas are blooming riotously, in hues ranging from crimson to white, mingled with lavender and fuchsia and cotton candy pink. Berry bushes and grape vines and fruit trees are budding, promising all the fruit we can eat by summertime. I’ve been so incredibly fortunate in my life. But there is so much of the South that harbors seeds of darkness. Poverty and ignorance and racism still abound in certain pockets of Southern states. Meth labs and malnourished children are far too common. While this book takes place in Mississippi instead of Louisiana, this felt like a story that I could find scattered throughout my state, if not in my home parish. Ward did an amazing job of peeling back the beauty that I see everyday and exposing the ugliness that I’m aware of but yearn to ignore. 

“Home is about the earth. Whether the earth open up to you. Whether it pull you so close the space between you and it melt and y'all one and it beats like your heart.”

There are three narrators in this story, and two of those sparked radically opposing sentiments within me as I read. We meet Jojo on his thirteenth birthday, as he helps his grandfather slaughter a goat in celebration. Yeah, kind of a rough way to start your teenage years. Jojo loves his grandparents and they love him very much, but the love of his life is his little sister; they are each other’s refuge, safe harbors in the storm that is their life. I’m thankful that my brother and I had a beautiful upbringing where we didn’t have to be that refuge for each other, but we’re incredibly close, so I really appreciated the inclusion of this deep bond between siblings. Where are his parents, you might ask? Well, his dad is in jail. But his mom is right here, living with her two kids and her parents in their small house. Jojo can’t stand either parent, and has taken to calling them by their given names, Leoni and Michael. 

“I hope I fed you enough. While I'm here. So you carry it with you. Like a camel.' I can hear the smile in her voice, faint. A baring of teeth. 'Maybe that ain't a good way of putting it. Like a well, Jojo. Pull that water up when you need it.” 

Which brings me to another of the three narrators: Leoni. I can’t remember the last time a character outside of the fantasy realm incited feelings so close to rage and hatred within me. Leoni is one of the worst mothers I’ve come across in fiction. There are plenty of parents in literature who are cruel and abusive, but Leoni’s abuse is rooted in casual neglect. You can tell that she’d be far happier if she had no children, and would probably leave them in a heartbeat if she had somewhere else to go. There is love for her children within her, but it’s buried deep beneath her self-absorption and her wild love for Michael. Theirs is a star-crossed love, because Leoni is black and Michael is white, and Michael’s father is insanely racist. Ward approaches racism with respect and deft honesty, and we see all the ways that racism has plagued Jojo and his family across generations.

“Sorrow is food swallowed too quickly, caught in the throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe.” 

Most of this story takes place over a road trip, when Leoni bundles up her kids and takes them to pick up their father when he’s released from prison. At this prison, the family picks up more than just Michael. A ghost from Jojo’s grandfather’s past hitches a ride back home with them. And I mean a literal ghost. This is one of multiple magical realism elements in this story. Jojo can hear the moods and thoughts of animals, and they sound almost like songs. He suspects that his little sister has the same gift. Leoni sees the ghost of her dead brother every time she gets high, though she’s never told anyone and has no idea whether she’s truly seeing him or if he’s a product of the drugs. The ghost that hitches a ride home with them is straight from Pap’s stories, and for the first time, Jojo can see something supernatural instead of merely hearing things. I loved these magical realism elements, and I feel that a Southern setting makes them more believable because our culture is so steeped in both religion and superstition.

“Growing up out here in the country taught me things. Taught me that after the first fat flush of life, time eats away at things: it rusts machinery, it matures animals to become hairless and featherless, and it withers plants [...] since Mama got sick, I learned pain can do that too. Can eat a person until there’s nothing but bone and skin and a thin layer of blood left. How it can eat your insides and swell you in wrong ways.”

One final facet of the story that spoke to me was how Ward handled grief. We see it take many forms, from wild weeping to stunned silence, and each of these forms felt reasonable and real. Grief looks different for everyone, and we have a brilliant representation of that in this book. I’m not sure that it’s a book I’ll be rereading, but it’s definitely a story that will stick with me for a long time. If you want to explore both the beauty and the ugliness of the American South in the form of fiction, you should definitely pick up a novel by Jesmyn Ward.

Ari Hertz

Heavy, heavy book. Every line is drenched, dripping with pain. These characters are haunted by streams of violence that gush forward from the past, wrapping them in a haze of suffocating trauma. They're looking for a way out, hoping to find themselves and each other in the process. I want to find hope in this book, but it's so weighed down by tragedy that I'm not sure I can.

I love Ward's use of magical realism. I love the rhythm of the prose. Ward's lyricism is so pronounced that it was sometimes difficult to distinguish between the voices of the three narrators. I had the pleasure of hearing Ward talk about this book and read a few passages aloud, which really enriched my reading of it. She spoke about how this book began with Jojo. He appeared to her, and she knew who he was. She knew she had to write about him. His "discovery" and the process of putting his story on paper echos the book's ghosts, who just want to be seen, remembered, and released.

Jenna

Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward is undeniably a beautifully written book and emotional story. It follows Jojo, a thirteen year old boy, his baby sister Kayla, and their mom Leonie as they set out on a long drive (with one of Leonie's friends in tow) to pick up Jojo and Kayla's father, Michael, from prison. 

The perspective oscillates between Jojo and Leonie. The family lives with Leonie's parents, Mam and Pop. Mam is dying of cancer and Pop carries his own burdens. Leonie is not a good parent to Jojo and Kayla. She struggles with drug addiction and sees visions of her dead brother Given whenever she gets high. Jojo cares for Kayla because Leonie can't (or won't), and has too much responsibility for an thirteen year old. Jojo at least has Pop as a father figure, but Leonie is wants Jojo to see Michael in that way, despite Michael's absence from Jojo's life. 

I feel like Jesmyn tries to make you feel for Leonie, and see her perspective, and while I could a little bit, I couldn't forgive her selfishness and cruelty towards her children. When Kayla gets sick on the car ride, Leonie doesn't take it seriously and instead is bitter that Kayla reaches for Jojo instead of her. Leonie repeatedly chooses drugs and her own self interests over those of her family. When a cop points a gun at Jojo, Leonie doesn't try and protect him. I guess how I felt is how Jojo also felt, only he was stuck with her. It was no surprise that she consistently disappointed him. 

The language in this book is descriptive and really sets the scene. I felt for Jojo and Kayla the whole time. The tension built up during the car ride can be felt through the pages. However, the ghosts that haunt the family were a bit much for my liking. Some parts of the book seemed a little random and unnecessary, some parts felt contrived and unbelievable, and some parts dragged on and on. 

Overall, I can see why people are moved by this book. While I enjoyed it, I just didn't have the connection with it that I would have liked. I'd still recommend it to fans of Jesmyn Ward and people who like family dramas and a descriptive setting in the deep south.

Mia Kern

Sometimes the world don't give you what you need, no matter how hard you look. Sometimes it withholds.


This is a tale of two books for me. Part of this book I found excellent, easily 4+ stars. The other part is a 1 star at best. So I'm settling with three.

Which might not be fair to the author, I realize. It's not that she did anything inherently wrong during the sections of the book I disliked, rather I disliked Leonie so much because she wasn't written to be likeable, just haunted and complex. I acknowledge that, but reading through those parts was just such an unpleasant experience that I can't bring myself to rate this higher despite what I enjoyed about it.

On that note, though, Jojo was a great character to follow. He really did come across as a scared teenager, but with the wisdom and maturity of somebody who's been forced into a parental role far too early. Similarly, the slow uncovering of the story between Jojo's grandfather and a fellow inmate from his teens was moving and heartbreaking.

And, certainly, the reflection on race was incredibly thoughtful and well-done. It, alongside family motifs, was a driving factor throughout the story, and we saw how it strained interracial relationships and friendships, how Pops was treated as a Black prisoner, and how Leonie and especially Jojo are treated by the police. It's a crushing look at the very real issues that still plague our society to this day.

All that being said, I really really disliked Leonie. And, again, she wasn't made to be likeable, only complex. But the way that she treated her children, everywhere from neglect to outright abuse, the way she almost completely ignores them when her boyfriend is around. Absolutely a realistic character, there are certainly mothers out there lacking that parental instinct, but I had a hard time reading through it.

Another, much smaller, gripe is that Ward's paragraphs are quite long. It shouldn't matter, I know, but something about reading pages and pages of dense walls of texts really made it feel like I had to slog through at times. (Especially when they were about her relationship with Michael, which I cared very little about. And they usually were!)

All in all, I'm glad that I read this, but I didn't necessarily enjoy reading it.

Finally had some time & was in the right headspace to read this on my flight back from university. I'm really glad I did. It did remind me of a modern day "Beloved" like a lot of reviews have been saying, but I don't think that description does it justice.

I was really captivated by this book once I got into it, and among all the significant themes this book addresses, I think where it excelled most was the lyricality present in depicting the family held essentially hostage by suffocating intergenerational trauma, and how that general Thing hanging over them infused itself in all of the family members' interactions with each other even down to the smallest, most inane conversation. Everything was corrupted in a way that from the start it shouldn't have been. And it manifests again and again as trauma becomes cyclical.

Really enjoyed this book.

SHORTLISTED FOR THE WOMEN'S PRIZE FOR FICTION 2018WINNER OF THE NATIONAL BOOK AWARD 2017ONE OF BARACK OBAMA'S BEST BOOKS OF 2017SELECTED AS A BOOK OF THE YEAR BY THE NEW YORK TIMES, THE NEW STATESMAN, THE FINANCIAL TIMES, THE NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW, TIME AND THE BBCFinalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award for FictionFinalist for the Kirkus PrizeFinalist for the Andrew Carnegie MedalFinalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award'This wrenching new novel by Jesmyn Ward digs deep into the not-buried heart of the American nightmare. A must' Margaret Atwood'A powerfully alive novel haunted by ghosts; a road trip where people can go but they can never leave; a visceral and intimate drama that plays out like a grand epic, Sing, Unburied, Sing is staggering' Marlon James, Winner of the Man Booker Prize 2015An intimate portrait of a family and an epic tale of hope and struggle, Sing, Unburied, Sing examines the ugly truths at the heart of the American story and the power - and limitations - of family bonds. Jojo is thirteen years old and trying to understand what it means to be a man. His mother, Leonie, is in constant conflict with herself and those around her. She is black and her children's father is white. Embattled in ways that reflect the brutal reality of her circumstances, she wants to be a better mother, but can't put her children above her own needs, especially her drug use. When the children's father is released from prison, Leonie packs her kids and a friend into her car and drives north to the heart of Mississippi and Parchman Farm, the State Penitentiary. At Parchman, there is another boy, the ghost of a dead inmate who carries all of the ugly history of the South with him in his wandering. He too has something to teach Jojo about fathers and sons, about legacies, about violence, about love. Rich with Ward's distinctive, lyrical language, Sing, Unburied, Sing brings the archetypal road novel into rural twenty-first century America. It is a majestic new work from an extraordinary and singular author.

Moray Lyle McIntosh

I'm not sure what it is about Ward that I just can't enjoy. Her writing is undeniably powerful, her prose both lyrical and brutal as she tackles tough subjects of race, violence, incarceration, drugs and trauma. Her work draws strongly from the traditions of Toni Morrison and her use of the ghostly conjures Beloved. But I just didn't feel it the way the earlier work touched me so profoundly. Rather, it seemed to suffer by comparison. Having also read Salvage the Bones with similar mixed feelings I can only conclude that, for whatever reason, Ward is not the author for me. It's always a shame to acknowledge an author's talent without being able to fully engage with it. It's not you Jesmyn, it's definitely me.

Dorian Avers

I finished this about a month ago and have read a few books in between, so this might be a pretty vague review. 
 I just wanted a bit more from this book. A little more passion, a little more anticipation building. It lacked a bit of storytelling for me. I wasn't a big fan of Richie being a narrator for a few parts of the story, I don't know exactly why I disliked this so much, but I did. I thought that there were a lot of issues thrown at the reader. Racism, drug use, casual abandonment of children, cancer, withheld history and trauma. But there wasn't a lot of depth. I don't need things wrapped up in a bow, but I would've liked a bit more. 
 Also, the ending of this novel confused me. Like what happened with JoJo's grandmother and Richie and everything else? I remember being confused by not the logic, but the rules of it all. 
 I think it's also hard for me to completely understand racism. I'm a brown girl, but nobody has ever really been outright racist or nasty to me, so it's so hard for me to imagine how people are truly so cruel and hateful because of the way someone looks or the color of their skin. I know there are people like that out there, but knowing something exists and experiencing it are two completely different things and I know I'm very privileged to only know one.

Quotes:
** " Two of the males [goats] skitter into each other, and then one head-butts the other, and they are fighting. When one of the males limps off and the winner, a dirty white color, begins bullying a small gray female, trying to mount her, I pull my arms into my sleeves. The female kicks at the male and bleats...The male bites at the female's ear, and the female makes a sound like a growl and snaps back
 'Is it always like that?'... I've seen horses rearing and mounting each other, seen pigs rutting in the mud, heard wildcats at night shrieking and snarling as they make kittens.
 'No,' he says. 'Not always. Sometimes it's this, too.'
 The female head-butts the neck of the male, screeching. The male skitters back. " (8-9)
*

Daryl Houston

I liked this one a whole lot. It's more than a 4-star book for me, but maybe not quite a 5-star book. The writing is lovely and the story arc simple, while the topic is so very nasty and complicated by history (and our inability to escape history). I think Ward handles the magical realism here nicely. In my book, she's better than Morrison, who confronts similar issues but whose books tend to drag on for me (I read Sing, Unburied, Sing in a day). Ward is the real deal.

Sing, Unburied, Sing A Novel

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